


Place in my head

by merrythoughts, ReallyMissCoffee



Series: Every part of you [1]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: After that chess game ya know, Demisexuality, Feelsy, Flirty, Heart Sex, Introspection, M/M, Mutant Pride, Sweet, The smut that got away from us, X-Men: First Class (2011), heart boners, intimate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 17:07:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21751849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merrythoughts/pseuds/merrythoughts, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReallyMissCoffee/pseuds/ReallyMissCoffee
Summary: Their game finishes, their tumblers empty, and Charles tilts his head to the side in consideration as Erik begins to stand."You could... stay, for a bit longer," Charles suggests, his eyebrows lifting on his forehead in invitation.[A night of connection after the infamous chess scene in First Class...]
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Series: Every part of you [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1684630
Comments: 3
Kudos: 64





	Place in my head

**Author's Note:**

> Our first time writing these dudes, but we're having all the feels. We're currently working toward a fix-it post-Apocolypse, so subscribe to the series for updates as each work will be contained in a different story rather than chapters!  
>   
>  **Disclaimer:** This is another merrythoughts & ReallyMissCoffee production. In case you don't know us, just a heads up: this is written first and foremost as an alternating roleplay between us which doesn't necessarily translate smoothly into an easily digestible or traditional fic format.
> 
> At times the flow can be jarring - we know - but please forgo any constructive criticism regarding the format. We are choosing to share our work and if you like it, you like it, if not, press the back button and try something else as we have no interest in attempting to fic-ify our stories and cut down on the introspection/words etc. Thanks! :)
> 
> Charles written by merrythoughts & Erik written by ReallyMissCoffee

* * *

* * *

It truly astonishes Charles that they've been able to come together as they have. It hadn't necessarily been an _easy_ feat to try and both rally the youth _and_ keep them from blowing each other up (or the estate for that matter). Nevertheless, Charles is thoroughly impressed with each one for buckling down and pushing themselves. It's been more than inspirational to watch their abilities grow, or in some cases become fine-tuned.

Between the children, Charles has been able to witness a growing bond of friendship too. It brings a genuine smile to Charles' lips when he thinks about it. Other than Raven, he had believed them to be the only mutants - it had been likewise for their little group too. And to have that assumption proved false? It's brilliant. Kindred spirits finding each other - or at least through Cerebro and his abilities - and coming together. It's not quite a family, but Charles sees the potential.

Erik has helped, perhaps not directly, not really one-on-one with the children, but Charles appreciates the company of another mutant around his age. Erik is quick and sharp and passionate. Yes, that passion is focused on stopping Shaw - on _killing_ Shaw - but Charles is hopeful. Raven would call him naive, but he can't change his character, and even if Charles _could,_ he's fairly certain he'd rather not. This world needs optimists.

_Peace was never an option._

Those words promptly end their discussion on Shaw, but they continue their chess game, pieces sliding, strategy unfolding each turn. Charles enjoys these quieter moments with Erik the best - just the two of them - a chess game to hold half their attention - and whatever conversation passes between them taking up the rest.

Their game finishes, their tumblers empty, and Charles tilts his head to the side in consideration as Erik begins to stand.

"You could... stay, for a bit longer," Charles suggests, his eyebrows lifting on his forehead in invitation.

* * *

Peace was never an option. No matter how idealistic Charles is, no matter the notions he's had flitting around in Erik's mind, the words ring true. Tomorrow, everything will change, and while the thought had once brought Erik nothing but a bitter satisfaction, there is an edge of something else in the deepest parts of his chest now. It's small, barely-formed, something that has managed to battle decades of conditioning and training, something that has brought him here, sitting across from Charles in his study, the game in front of them, their minds engaged.

It is... reluctance, Erik thinks, attempting to view it as distantly as he can. Though, even he knows that distance has been failing him as of late. Distance, dispassion, rage... once, they had been certainties. In a way, they still are. Though as he watches the disappointment flicker behind Charles' eyes and watches him lean back fluidly in his seat, Erik can't pretend that he's unaffected.

It's new, this sense of solidarity. Erik has had many years to hone his hatred, but he finds - with growing disquiet - that another drive has begun to push at him, has begun to influence his movements. In part, it is the feeling of togetherness - a concept he had denied himself for so long.

Downstairs, tucked away in their beds, are the future. Children dragged headlong into what will become a war, and Erik admires them as much as he mourns what they will lose tomorrow. What they've _already_ lost. Yet to his confusion, to his shame, it's _Charles_ that has sparked this new drive.

A drive to connect, to share, to _persuade_. Raven could be beautiful if she'd just _let_ herself, but Charles? Charles could be so much _more_.

They both sit in silence as the game ends, and it's with a sense of reluctance that Erik draws one final breath of this moment between them and then sets his empty tumbler on the table beside him. He's halfway to standing when Charles' voice re-forms his fractured attention and he stills, because there is... _something_ in his voice. Something that - much like the both of them - is more than what it appears.

Erik regards Charles, then slowly takes his seat. The weight of tomorrow looms, but he finds, with growing heaviness, that he doesn't _want_ to leave yet.

"Missing me before I've even left the room?" Erik says with a hint of a tease in his voice. "Stalling won't make tomorrow come any slower."

* * *

Not everyone shares his more... liberal outlook. Given how potentially volatile Erik _can_ be, Charles doesn't know if edging into this territory is a smart course of action. He could have picked at Erik's mind, could have sifted around and looked for proof or evidence (that he's fairly confident does exist),but Charles tries to keep his telepathy at bay - at least when around those he truly cares about. Until his budding friendship with Erik, it had only been Raven that he'd actively extended this courtesy toward.

One would think that the gift of telepathy would always be a blessing, but it many cases it's not. Having the ability to hear every little thought or criticism about himself? It's not been pleasant. Some thoughts are plain boring and many are certainly none of his business. For his own mental well being, Charles attempts to tune out most people's consciousness. Instead of vivid thoughts, they're more akin to a dull murmur, like static on a television screen. Hearing _everything_ takes out the whimsy in life, it diminishes the spark in social interactions. (Not to say that Charles hasn't, in certain situations, used his mutation to help him. He's no saint.)

Charles has been inside of Erik's mind before - out in the water - and he'd felt the whiplash of Erik's frantic rage and desperation to not let Shaw escape. And Charles had attempted to be subtle in poking around the next few hours - he'd needed to learn what kind of man Erik was, if Erik could help them. Charles hadn't dug too deep, he hadn't gone for the specific details or explicit memories because those are Erik's to share if he so wishes one day.

The landscape of Erik Lensherr's mind is familiar to Charles, but Charles would like much _more_ than that.

His suggestion isn't blatant, but it does have Erik lowering himself back to the seat. Erik's words are a lilting tease that coaxes a small but open grin on Charles' face. Erik's playfulness doesn't come out often which only makes Charles all the more pleased by its appearance now. Teasing isn't flat out rejection either. Erik isn't wrong about stalling, but that isn't Charles' goal - not exactly.

"What about a distraction?" Charles counters and his hands come to the cardigan he's wearing, unbuttoning the few buttons before removing it and draping it on the side of his armrest.

_Tomorrow is coming, my friend. I have no doubt about that, but that doesn't mean **tonight** must come to an end._

* * *

Once tomorrow comes and Shaw is dead, the world will know about mutants. Erik doesn't know how tomorrow will end. He doesn't know if they will all survive, if _he_ will survive, if _Charles_ \--

Shaw won't survive. Erik's focus is limited. He's hungry to see the life drain from Shaw's eyes. He's desperate for it. Though as he sits there in Charles' study, the lighting low, the pleasant burn of alcohol warming all the way to the tips of his fingers, Erik's feeling of reluctance grows.

It feels as though he is fighting against two sides of himself. What he has been conditioned to become, and who he could have been had Shaw not been in the equation. It's complicated, but what it boils down to is that he honestly doesn't want the night to be over. He wants tomorrow to come and wants to stay in this moment in equal measure, but he doesn't know _why_.

Charles' answer makes that confusion settle slightly by replacing it with intrigue of a different sort. Erik lifts an eyebrow curiously, but it isn't until Charles' cardigan is unbuttoned and pulled free that Erik realizes he's skipped a step, that he's _missed_ something.

It takes him a moment to realize what Charles might be implying, and Erik surprises even himself with the immediate feeling of acceptance within. He has never been a man to crave connection, to reach out and seduce or take anyone to bed unless it has furthered his goals; Erik has never wanted another the way _they_ want _him_. He has no frame of reference.

Yet this feels... suspect. Erik hesitates; control has always been paramount and he doesn't appreciate being made to feel out of it, but the sight of Charles baring a new layer is enticing. Erik watches, and even if he's not certain, he believes he's right.

He wonders, briefly, if perhaps he could use this. If _maybe_ Charles might go further for him, if maybe he might bend _just_ a little on his ideology, if perhaps they could both walk away from this--

And then Charles' voice is in his mind and Erik feels the familiar weight of it, feels the oddly honeyed feeling that leaves him feeling pinned, exhilarated, and connected. He blinks through it; even months later, it still feels different.

"If the fireplace is making you warm, you might want to wear fewer layers in the future," Erik says out loud; verbal is safer than mental, and out loud, he can add that hint of teasing. "Unless, of course... that has something to do with your distraction. Would that be a safe bet?"

* * *

Charles has always been a proponent of consensual sexual activity being good for one's health. While the _frequency_ of dalliances may have declined since he - understandably - became busier with his thesis, he's not been celibate. Given that Charles is a supporter of equal opportunity in relation to the gender of his partners, it's never been a particularly laborious task to find _someone_ willing to indulge.

Male or female, it never truly mattered to him. With the ability to peruse the mind and actively listen, Charles is able to locate an individual who will align with his interests. Biologically or anatomical components hold little sway - not when the mind holds such fantastical insights. Besides, homosexual activity has the added benefit of no risk of conception.

Erik, however... Charles has seen and even felt Erik's fondness, but he's not sure just how far that fondness goes and what it exactly involves (or doesn't involve). Charles has never sought out this information. Until him, Erik had been a lone man on a quest for retribution, now Erik is with them. Erik knows him, is his friend.

Cardigan removed, and the mood in the room shifts. Charles may not be actively rooting around in Erik's head, but if Charles is open, he's able to get traces of emotion and thought. First Erik is curious, then interested, but wariness is also present. These responses seem understandable given the situation. Charles is _also_ able to pick out the small spark of familiarity that follows him speaking directly inside of Erik's mind.

_Yes, that would be a safe bet._

Grinning, Charles gets to his feet and his hands lift to the button at his collar. He undoes it but doesn't move to the next.

"You want me to stop, say the word, think the word. The choice is yours," Charles murmurs.

_I'm still your friend either way, Erik. I still have your back._

* * *

The risk is always there, that Charles will dig too deep, will cast his net too wide and sink beneath the surface of Erik's thoughts, but as Erik watches him closely, he doubts that _that_ is what Charles is doing. It's still dangerous, though not because Erik has been actively plotting against him. Charles has known his stance on Shaw and humans and mutants from the start; they'd argued about it only twenty minutes ago. No, the danger is in Charles looking deep enough to find something that not even Erik knows. Perhaps, in a sense, the danger is in Charles looking deep enough that he finds something that will make him recoil.

Erik has never had a friend before, and he has certainly never had the uncomfortable-but-humbling experience of a man able to look deep inside of his mind, see his anger, and still call him _friend_. It is... unsettling, to think of losing that.

As Charles grins at him, though, Erik casts his worries aside. Charles has never poked around where he's unwanted. He's never forced himself into Erik's mind despite that very first time when he'd been blinded by his need to stop the submarine. Though it seems impossible, Erik can _trust_ Charles, and it's that thought that finally calms him.

He watches Charles undo the top button of his shirt, and his gaze drops to the strip of pale flesh exposed. Erik is... surprised by the grip of desire. In a way, it shouldn't be a surprise that this is happening. Charles has already disrupted Erik's status quo. Why not push further?

_I know you do._

Erik stands again, though this time he sidesteps the table between them and takes a single step closer.

"What if I want you to continue?" Erik asks. "What would you have me say then?"

* * *

It's imperative for Erik to know that Charles' help and friendship do not, in any way, hinge on Erik potentially going ahead in this. While Charles certainly does maintain that he's seen _some_ evidence of a mutual attraction or interest, he's not about to force or pressure Erik into anything. A frightening prospect is being aware that he could easily plant a suggestion or mentally coerce Erik into it - into doing anything that he wants.

Emma Frost had had no qualms using her telepathy to play with the Russian General after all, but Charles could never use his abilities like that. He'd never _want_ to.

While he's obviously controlled a few CIA agents here and there - weaker minds - it had been momentary and for the greater good. Charles is no god and he certainly doesn't wish to emulate one. Taking away human agency is a delicate matter and must be used very sparingly. He could erase Shaw from Erik's memory, or tinker with the murderous intent, but doing so would fundamentally change Erik. While Erik doesn't share his sentiment toward humans, Charles is hopeful that them stopping Shaw will make the right impression. He's believing in the good.

Charles keeps his mental presence light - just reassuring, just enough of a tether to let Erik know that he's there if Erik wishes to communicate in such a way. Skimming across the surface, Charles finds piqued interest amidst the wariness which is settling down. And it's Erik's trust in him that honestly warms Charles and impresses upon him the importance of _not_ ever consciously hurting Erik. Erik's been through enough. Charles would loathe adding to that list in any way.

Charles' head lifts as Erik smoothly rises and shows the first real indication of encouragement. His pulse jumps as he, too, stands and takes a step closer to Erik, drawn to him as if they were opposite ends of a magnet.

"Something along the lines of, ' _finish taking off that shirt or I'll do it for you_?'" he suggests with an almost boyish twinkle in his eye.

* * *

This is Erik making a conscious decision, but not the type he usually makes. This is something that has the potential to be indulgent in a way that he's not sure he's ever really allowed himself. He can make the argument that this might soften Charles' dogma, that he might be easier to persuade over to Erik's way of thinking if he does this, but as Erik stands and watches as Charles rises to his feet as though Erik has bid him to do so, he knows that that's not why he's considering this.

Tomorrow, everything will change. But tonight, for the first time in what feels like forever, Erik has a choice. Or, perhaps more accurately, he has the option to _want_ to choose, because for the first time, he has someone else he considers about as important as himself, as his mission.

It's terrifying to think of how quickly Charles had managed to bury himself under Erik's skin. It's equally terrifying to acknowledge how comfortable it is to have him there.

So he takes this risk. He chooses to be receptive even if this is an entirely new experience. He looks Charles over slowly, noting the distinct lack of curves and softness that Erik is at least somewhat familiar with. Yet instead of recoiling, instead of acknowledging the taboo that Erik had been taught many years ago, he realizes with some intrigue that he wants to explore this more. Society would condemn this, but society condemns them anyway. Why _not_ add more fuel to the fire?

So when Charles steps in and makes his teasing suggestion, Erik's lips pull into a smile, unbidden.

"When you've put it so succinctly, does it bear repeating?" Erik suggests, the smile in his voice. He takes a single step closer, bringing them close enough that he can see the flecks of clouded blue in Charles' eyes. "Though that does make the assumption that I don't _want_ to do it for you."

He reaches out then, carefully, and brings his fingers to the next button down. Erik undoes it pointedly, though without meeting Charles' eyes.

* * *

Anticipation skitters through Charles as he stands in front of Erik, both inviting and inciting something _more_ and _other_. He has always delighted in a stimulating build up, in the intellectual pursuit as it were, and it's no different now as he offers this to Erik.

But this _is_ distinctly different from the co-eds he attempted to occasionally pick up when the need or desire struck. Charles doesn't try and win Erik over with wit or bite-size pieces of repurposed scientific fact. Charles doesn't try to charm his way into Erik's favor either. Charles, for once, has been able to completely be himself with Erik. He isn't afraid of their differing opinions, of the shadows that cling onto Erik's mind like cobwebs, because Charles is going to show Erik that there _is_ still good. All he needs is time and he's honestly looking forward to having this time with Erik.

Although Erik is presenting as interested and consenting (thus far), Charles still keeps a tab on Erik's mental state. He's not going to allow his urges to potentially complicate their vital mission tomorrow. But what he feels from Erik is the acknowledgement of a _choice_. There's Erik considering him and the anatomical differences (a quick glance and Charles understands that Erik has never been with a man before - good to know).

But Charles, thankfully, doesn't sense disgust and when he sees a gorgeous smile light up Erik's face, Charles' mental presence retreats to the surface, like a light blanket. When Erik nears him, an interested warmth suffuses into Charles' chest as he swallows in a bid to steady himself. Erik's fingers come to the next small button and Charles' hand lifts and he brushes his fingertips against the back of Erik's hand before falling to Erik's hip and grasping there.

_I know this is new for you, Erik. I want you to know that I'll respect any boundaries._

* * *

In the deepest part of Erik's mind, he's aware that the typical reaction to such a new experience should be wariness or anxiety. In a way, perhaps his readiness to explore this new avenue is telling in itself. There's a small flicker of curiosity in the back of his mind, something that warns him that crossing certain boundaries might not be smart, but he's not wary, and he's not anxious. This feels... practical more than sudden and shocking, as though it's something that Charles has suggested on numerous occasions. Erik has no way of knowing if perhaps he _has_ , and Erik had just missed the signals.

He can tell when an enemy with a gun pointed to his head is going to pull the trigger by intuition alone, but flirting and interpersonal relationships have always left him feeling oddly out-of-touch, like he's missed something. Like he's one step out of time with the rest of humanity until it comes to violence. That is where Erik shines.

By rights, he _should_ feel lost, or uncomfortable, or at least caught off guard, but he doesn't. Charles' throat bobs in a small swallow, subtle and real as Erik undoes his button, and Erik feels the skating brush of Charles' soft fingers against his hand before a surprisingly firm grip falls to his hip. It's three counts of closeness at once, and Erik isn't ripping the walls down to wrench Charles away from him. Instead, he feels intrigued, almost... relieved? Pleased? Emotions are still a struggle some days.

"You have a place in my head, Charles," Erik says, and one by one, he undoes each small button on Charles' shirt, his gaze still down, still taking in the sight of Charles' skin slowly baring for him. "And tomorrow, we change the world. What use do we have for boundaries now?"

Erik undoes the last button and when he touches Charles' side, skin-against-skin, and feels the buzz of electricity and magnetism and iron in Charles' blood, he finally looks up and meets Charles' eyes. "No boundaries. Show me."

* * *

It's so very important to Charles that Erik knows that becoming intimate with him isn't any sort of _requirement_ , that he wants a willing partner, and that he would never force anything. While Erik may have pushed Cassidy off the ledge in order for the boy to figure out the soaring business (and Charles _had_ been thinking of doing it), some boundaries and reservations must be respected. While Charles certainly has some ideas where he'd like this evening to progress, he would be pleased with anything Erik felt comfortable with giving him.

Because it truly _does_ feel like a gift. From the quick glimpses into Erik's sexual history, Charles didn't get the impression that the sex had ever been an activity of enjoyment for Erik. Sex had been a means to an end - and yes - that begs to question Erik's motives with him now, but Charles can feel the acceptance and mutual interest. He's not going to dig beneath that - it's none of his business.

Just because he _can,_ doesn't mean he ought to.

Erik allows him to touch his hip and all these little points of contact draw Charles in more. Erik _acknowledging_ that Charles holds a place in Erik's mind is, strangely, the factor that seems to ramp up his arousal, his trousers feeling tighter in the netherregions. Of course, Erik's nimble fingers undoing his shirt buttons also helps.

Erik's words, the sentiment, it's practically a charismatic rally for Charles, thrill going off inside him like fireworks. The slightest touch - a finger skimming up his belly - and Charles' breath catches. That breath then is sharply inhaled as Erik's eyes find his own.

And Charles acts _and_ shows as he lurches forward, his other hand burying in Erik's hair to pull the taller man down into a kiss that floods him with both relief and hunger. But Charles _also_ projects a specific want - allowing Erik to at least feel and understand the desire he has of Erik pinning him to the bed and one of Erik's hands covering his mouth, but Charles would still able to speak - to truly speak - and Erik would tease him with kisses until Charles gave clear, level-headed instructions of what he wanted.

* * *

Erik knows how to entice with touch, knows how to use his body to seduce even though the desire has rarely - if ever - been something that he has indulged in beyond necessity. He'd learned the benefits of using his body to weaken a woman's resolve long ago, and as powerful as men are, Erik knows that it's truly _women_ who know the most. Quiet, observant, and intelligent; he's liberated more information from women than not. Besides, they're pleasing to the eye, and despite his preoccupation, he's been able to fake his interest well enough.

He suspects that this won't be so different. Charles' body is not soft and curvaceous. He's not gentle and shy and demure, nor is he voraciously sexual by nature. Yet sex is sex. It will likely be easy.

At least... that's what Erik thinks right up until the moment that Charles' pupils blow wide with arousal, until thin fingers - feminine in their own right - lift up to Erik's hair and bury in it, and until Charles' lips press against his. Erik has kissed before, has even enjoyed it, but he's never been kissed like _this_. If he'd had preconceived notions about careful touches and soft smiles, they're dashed as Charles kisses him with clear hunger, but it's _far_ more than that.

Erik doesn't know if the images he sees in his mind are his own, or even if he can call them images. They are... shaped desires, suggestions built from thought, and they send heat sliding through Erik's veins. He feels desire twist in his stomach, feels a soft breath escape him, and only then does he realize that he's been kissing back without noticing it.

And that this kiss feels very different from those that Erik has participated in, in the past. If they had been participation, this is indulgence, because Charles is receptive and eager and encouraging. Erik feels the skim of fondness in his mind, feels the familiarity of Charles' presence, and _knows_ that Charles' enjoyment hinges on it being mutual.

With a soft sound, Erik reaches out, his hands finding Charles' hips. He draws him in firmly, feeling the telling signs of arousal and knowing that Charles is not alone in that, though he can't remember the last time he'd reacted so quickly. _This_ is much more than Erik has had before.

So he thinks back. He pushes the feeling of approval back, reinforces the strength of Charles' mental image by filling in the gaps, by strengthening the picture.

_Your bed, I assume?_

* * *

It's likely that Erik hadn't expected to be shown in such a manner. Charles has never projected a loosely constructed desire with a partner because he's always kept his abilities a secret - he's always _had_ to. As it's difficult to always keep his shields up thoughts may be heard but Charles tries to keep the use of his mutation down to a minimum - _especially_ when partaking in such an intimate activity. Charles knows that he certainly wouldn't want _his_ thoughts heard. It's common courtesy.

This may be the first time Erik has kissed a man, but there's no reservation. Erik kisses him back, lips moving and taking, and satisfaction swells within Charles. Erik's mouth tastes of the well-aged scotch he'd drank earlier, but Charles certainly doesn't mind. Soft hair becomes mussed from Charles' grip, but he doesn't relent. He basks in the clear enjoyment that Erik exudes from his projected desire _and_ the kiss. That enjoyment is _also_ acceptance and approval, and Charles' eyes slip shut when Erik pulls him in closer.

Charles goes willingly, pressing against Erik's firm body, unashamed that his own erection is obvious. Bedsides, Erik _is_ hard too and Charles senses a note of surprise within Erik about that, but he doesn't seek to unravel it. He can't because Erik _willingly_ expands on Charles' desire, adding in his own perspective of Charles underneath him. Charles shudders as he's able to now re-experience the desire more fully and partnered - _mutual_.

_Yes, let's._

In order to relocate there, they'll need to stop kissing, but that's easier said than done. Charles doesn't _want_ this to stop, so the kiss goes on, his fingers smoothing through Erik's hair. When it's obvious that _one_ of them will need to pull back, he forces himself to do just that with a soft, almost reluctant sound. Charles' lips are slick as he smiles up at Erik.

"Let's go, I'll ensure that no one catches us," Charlies murmurs quietly as his hand leaves Erik's hair to squeeze at one of Erik's wrists.

* * *

There is power to be found in this, but the thought is distant, more an observation than a fact. It's categorical, merely Erik slotting the knowledge into place without having real use for it. He's never been able to help such observations; being who he is comes with certain things that he notices first, and feeling Charles shudder as Erik pushes the mental image back at him is a heady, thrilling feeling. Charles, whose power rivals Erik's own, if it doesn't outshine it completely. Charles, who is warm and receptive, who tastes of aged scotch, and wants him despite their differences of opinion, despite the fact that there is nothing obvious to _gain_ from this.

Erik feels a warm thrill slide through him, and it takes him a hazy few seconds to realize that it's not _coming_ from him. He keeps kissing Charles, but he also pokes at the clear pleasure that he can feel through the gentle presence he has in Erik's mind. Something about this is _beyond_ what Charles has had before, and as he learns the shape and feel of Charles' lips and feels Charles eagerly respond, Erik thinks he understands.

It _is_ a thrilling thing, to be known. To be _seen_. To have someone else understand. Despite Erik's tendency to go it alone, he doesn't think he'll ever forget how it feels to have people who understand.

So he isn't about to ruin this. Not for Charles. Not for himself. And when Charles finally draws back, his cheeks ruddy and flushed, his smile boyish and endearing, Erik smiles back and takes him at his word.

"See that you do. I think I remember the way," Erik says with a hint of teasing in his voice. He doesn't make Charles wait further, though. With a thought, the lights in the room dim to nothing, leaving the room lit by the dying fire, and he puts a hand on Charles' hip to guide him along.

Charles is good to his word. The relatively short trip is not interrupted, and Erik feels oddly purposeful as he leads the way to Charles' bedroom. He waves the door open with one hand, feeling the metal of the lock on the door click open and swing open for them, and after leading Charles inside, Erik locks the door behind them with a thought.

He doesn't stop guiding Charles until they're near his bed, and then he turns. Erik walks him back until Charles' knees hit the edge of his bed, and when he falls back, Erik goes with him, settling one knee on the bed beside him as he leans in and catches Charles' lips in a slower, deeper kiss.

This one he pushes for; this one, he indulges in.

* * *

Charles is keenly aware of the fact that this is both their first time being intimate with another mutant. It's a pleasing realization for him, the acknowledgement of sharing this _with_ Erik, with a man who has steadily become a respected friend and peer of his. A daunting day awaits all of them tomorrow. And Charles doesn't know how the events will play out - he's not psychic - but he's hopeful. If they can just show the governments of the world that mutant kind are not all inherently evil, that they can actually help... Well, the humans would be foolish to turn them away.

Erik's smile is brilliant and Charles can't help but be giddy as Erik takes charge, dimming the lights and ushering him out of the den. Fingers pressed to the temple of his forehead, Charles quickly scans the rest of the property, ensuring that everyone is where they ought to be (or at least not in danger of finding two men - one with his shirt unbuttoned and flushed cheeks - rushing to Charles' bedroom).

It's still such a delight to be able to witness Erik's mutation - just to witness other shows of abilities in general because it's proof of their connection, an abolishment of the once held belief of being alone. Charles is practically grinning once they're both in his room and the door locked. Surprisingly, Erik doesn't shy away and Charles, interested as ever, lets himself be guided to the bed. With a sound of surprise, he's falling back, his shirt spilling open.

But Erik comes with him, looming over him, and initiating a kiss. This kiss is different because Erik's enjoyment washes over Charles - it's nothing concrete, nothing to do with specific thoughts - but more of a general feeling of pleasure and want. It's enough to get Charles opening his mouth in invitation, his hands scrambling to clutch at the black fabric of Erik's turtleneck. Charles moans into the kiss, arching up to show his interest.

 _As much as I love kissing you_ , _I do think you're overdressed._ And Charles tugs on the sweater. He also wants his shirt off, but he figures he can get to that if Erik obliges his request first.

* * *

Erik has grown good at reading people. He's read Charles before and he's sure that he will again before too long. To know a person, to know how they work, is to know how to manipulate them if need be, but as Erik feels Charles' fingers grip at his turtleneck and as he feels Charles' lips part, he knows that this is not a manipulation.

It could be. Erik has never had problems using his body to get what he wants. Charles can project images of persuasion, but Erik has _been_ that persuasion before. He knows how that feels.

Which means that he knows that _this_ is different. Erik has never really kissed for the mere pleasure of it. He's never shared this with someone arguably as powerful as he is. So as he indulges Charles' unspoken whim and licks into his mouth as though testing whether or not he likes it, Erik lets himself settle into this knowledge. He lets himself settle into being _known_ , and as Charles' mind skims lightly through his senses, warm and comforting instead of cold and invading, Erik feels himself relaxing into it.

If not for the mental reminder, Erik doesn't know how long he would have kissed Charles without stopping. As it is, he draws back with a small breath, half a laugh, half sheer breathlessness as he draws back enough to look down at Charles.

His lips are fuller than Erik has ever seen them, and despite his stronger, masculine angles, Charles' expression is open, soft, and inviting. It's dangerous, because Erik thinks it looks like somewhere he could stay--

 _I suppose I owe you that much,_ Erik thinks back, shoving the vague feeling of amusement in Charles' direction as he leans back and reaches down.

Erik strips his turtleneck off at his own pace, and it's only after it's off that he realizes he'd done it the way he tends to while attempting to coerce information. He stills, but ultimately decides that it's unimportant. Autopilot isn't conscious manipulation.

"Lean up," Erik says as he bends back down over Charles. And, as Erik leans in to kiss him again, he pushes the shirt from Charles' shoulders, hands sliding warm over his skin.

* * *

Charles does love kissing Erik. Sometimes kissing can be tedious business if his partner isn't in sync with him. Too much tongue, too little, too wet or too dry, timid, pushy, too much teeth... There are many variables that can affect the enjoyment of kissing, but with Erik it feels _right_. It's an exploration of hunger, both of their mouths learning each other's, discovering the feel and taste. When Charles gives his little request, he can tell that Erik had been somewhat lost in the enjoyment of their liplocking and satisfaction soars through him at that realization.

So when they break away, Charles is smiling up at Erik, his eyes focusing on the slight color on Erik's high cheekbones, on the slickness of Erik's mouth. Aware of his own feelings of adoration, Charles doesn't let his own feelings bleed forward. It becomes easier when Erik mentally agrees with him and Charles receives Erik's amusement.

With wide eyes, Charles watches as Erik pulls back and... It's not necessarily a quick affair like Charles had suspected. Instead, Erik is oddly seductive about it, his hands sliding down slowly to the hem of the turtleneck and pulling it up inch by inch - _deliberately_. At first Charles lets himself enjoy the almost-show. It's not until _after_ the top is pulled off of an athletically lean torso and Erik realizes what he's done, that Charles _also_ clues in.

Erik had been falling back into the habit of using his body to blatantly seduce because that's what he's always done.

Charles' eyebrows briefly pull in, the realization bitter in his mouth, but Erik moves past it. Charles understands habits and unconscious action - it hadn't been Erik's _conscious_ intention - so he also lets it go. Charles leans up when Erik beckons him and his mouth is reclaimed in a kiss. Erik's hands slide his shirt off and Charles helps. When he's free, his own hands are grasping at strong shoulders and scooting back on the bed, urging Erik to climb on top of him.

Skin touching skin, Charles' hands smooth down Erik's back and he moans into the kiss, eyelids fluttering. Charles' hips push up, unashamed of his own arousal as he rubs against Erik.

_You feel rather good on top of me._

* * *

There is a moment where Erik realizes that Charles knows why he'd stripped his shirt off so slowly, and for that same moment, the realization is thrilling and alarming at once. That Charles can see so clearly is impressive, and Erik is struck once more by how _perfect_ Charles could be if he'd just drop his damnable optimism. If he'd just _see_. But those are thoughts that Erik lets go of, as he suspects that Charles could see them if he wanted to. Right now, despite the slight hiccup, Charles still wants this, and Erik... Erik still wants _him_.

It should be odd, and maybe in one small area it is, but in another sense, as Erik follows Charles up the bed and feels warm, broad hands slide back over his shoulders, Erik realizes that the only thing that is different between them now is the physical.

Charles has had a place in Erik's mind for months. He's been a warmth at his side, a challenge, competition, and companion all rolled into one. Feeling the way that Charles' hands slide down his back, feeling the vibration of his moan, sweet against Erik's lips... the only thing that has changed is that Erik can _feel_ it now.

Charles lifts his hips and Erik's breath hitches against the kiss. He feels the solid line of Charles' cock, hard through his slacks, and that... _that_ is new. But it's good. Erik slowly lowers himself down, kneeling over Charles' body, knees on either side of his hips as he presses Charles back against the mattress. He slides his fingers up, threading them curiously through Charles' hair, and when he licks into Charles' mouth with a low hum, he feels oddly settled.

_How fortunate. You feel very good **under** me. Isn't it lucky that we both get what we want?_

Erik draws back with the barest hint of a smirk, but it's hotter, and softer. He looks down at Charles, drinking in the sight of him with quick, assessing glances. When he leans back down, he tilts his head, and instead of catching Charles' lips in another kiss, he leans down lower and kisses just under his chin, then again along his jaw, tracing sharper, masculine lines and considering the odd scratch of stubble against his lips.

It's new, but it's not bad. Erik lets the thoughts flit around in his mind, lets himself note Charles' cologne, the citrus of his shampoo, how his skin isn't as soft as a woman's, yet impossibly softer than his own. He likes it.

* * *

Charles can't possibly hope to explain or quantity the feeling that comes with being able to use his abilities openly with Erik. Never has Charles been allowed to freely share his thoughts whilst being intimate. He's always tried to _not_ read his partners too closely. Opening himself up to Erik, letting them both feel their mental connection is beyond thrilling or gratifying - it's _invigorating_.

Not only is there the physical stimulation - the press of Erik's mouth, how Erik's skin feels under his hands - but there is also the mental stimulation that lights up along Charles skull.

So it's almost painfully easy to let himself be so forward in his enjoyment - to grind his hips upward and make his obvious arousal known. There's no disgust from Erik, but a curiosity and acknowledgement that Charles' anatomy is different from what Erik is used to (which Charles understands all too well).

Erik goes further, his body coming to rest atop of Charles and his hands exploring upward as fingers stroke through his now-dishevelled hair. It's this simple motion that has Charles shuddering because his scalp has always been sensitive. He's open and pliant underneath Erik, projecting a fond sort of amusement back at Erik at Erik's own little mental comment.

Charles blinks rapidly as Erik pulls away from the kiss and he focuses on Erik's face. Charles doesn't have time to do much else because Erik's coming back closer and Charles is treated to Erik's mouth on _other_ parts of himself. Charles' head tilts back, elongating his neck for Erik's perusal. And Charles' eyes slip shut as his fingers pet up and down Erik's back. Before he can think too much on it, Charles is mentally projecting pleasure and anticipation back at Erik.

It then hits him. _Permission_.

"Are you okay with--" Charles begins, trying for neutral but even he can hear the edge of arousal present. "I never asked and I shouldn't have presumed that using my powers would be fine... I just got-- Well, over-excited that I was able to use them openly."

* * *

This might not be familiar, but that doesn't mean that Erik isn't enjoying the differences he finds as he and Charles explore this new avenue. Charles' body isn't soft and curvaceous; he's all hard lines and angles and a firm pressure against the growing hardness in Erik's slacks. His hair isn't long enough to fan out and risk tangling against the pillow, and Erik can feel the faint scratch of stubble against his cheek when he kisses Charles' jaw. His hands are strong, fingers broader, arms corded instead of gentle, but to Erik's mounting surprise, he finds that the differences are what help him shove away conditioning.

He's just thinking that this is something dangerous, something that he could see himself growing used to-- when suddenly there's a flare of something that washes over him, intimate and raw and quick. Erik feels arousal prickle over his skin, feels his cock harden in his slacks, feels the sudden twist of alien anticipation, and he draws back an inch or two with a quickly-drawn breath of surprise.

 _Charles_ , he thinks, both in answer to his immediate question, and in approval. But something must break free, because just like that, the wash of emotion that isn't his eases away, leaving him feeling oddly... alone in his own head. Erik blinks quickly to shake it off, and when he looks down at Charles again, there's mild surprise etched into his expression.

Charles, for his part, looks calm, but Erik can see the lines next to his eyes, the tension, the impatience. Just seeing him withdraw, seeing him attempt to _lock his powers down_ is enough to make something hot and wild rush up in Erik's chest. He reaches out and grabs one of Charles' arms in a firm, tight, near-painful grip before remembering himself. Even then, he only softens it slightly as he pushes, slowly guiding Charles' arm up - and with it, the hand that Charles had had on his back - until Charles' hand is pressed against Erik's temple.

"Never hide, Charles," he says, with quiet fierceness. "Not from me. Go on. Reach for me. _Show_ me."

And with that, Erik lets go of Charles' arm and reaches up with his other hand, setting his hand firmly over Charles' mouth the way that Charles had shared with him before. When Erik leans back down and his lips find the rapid pulse at Charles' throat, it's intentional.

* * *

Charles could have sifted through Erik's thoughts with more discerning attention, focusing on finding out exactly what Erik believed about Charles using his mutation in the here and now, but Charles doesn't. He'd rather verbally ask and allow Erik the opportunity to think on the question and give his own answer. There is a risk that stopping their momentum to pursue this avenue may put a damper on things altogether, but Charles would rather know (and ask) then wonder (or snoop).

Erik looks down at him, eyes intense and piercing and Charles doesn't dare use his powers to pry. He waits for his answer like any other human or non-telepathic mutant would. Erik answers first with physicality - Erik moving his hand up until his fingers brush across a warm temple. This action is blatant enough and Charles' lips part in a silent gasp.

The stance of _not_ _hiding_ has been one of Erik's foundational beliefs, so it's no surprise what Erik insists - not hiding. Erik's tone is commanding, but also possessive, like Erik desperately wants this part of Charles and it's utterly riveting to be accepted and wanted in such a way. Charles is groaning his approval as Erik's larger hand then comes to cover his mouth.

Charles' own hand slides into Erik's hair, his fingers gripping at what he can. It's difficult to get his mind in working order after Erik's passionate words and knowing that this is what he'd shown Erik earlier. Erik's lips come to his throat, over his pulse and Charles lets their mental connection spring forth, his mind wrapping around Erik's, thoughts of tightly coiled desire permeating each mental caress.

 _Oh god, Erik. Bite me._ And Charles isn't shy as he shows Erik the desire of Erik biting, kissing and sucking along Charles' neck.

* * *

Erik doesn't need to look at Charles' face to feel his surprise. In the back of his mind, he knows that his response had been intense, maybe bordering on _too_ intense, but if Charles has protests, he doesn't voice them. Instead, Erik feels the skip of his pulse, and when Charles groans behind Erik's hand, the sound runs through him like a physical touch, stoking the growing fire of arousal deeper. Charles' fingers slide up into his hair and there are no painted, styled nails scratching at his scalp like this, but it's better because of it.

This isn't sex for the sake of manipulation and information. This is... something else.

When Charles loosens his hold on his powers, it's a beautiful, _powerful_ thing. Erik feels the rush of it, feels the strength, the warmth, and the connection in a way that makes something inside of him tighten and _want_ in a way that has nothing to do with the physical. It's intimacy without direct sexuality. It is something wholly and completely _Charles_ , and it's beautiful.

The silent plea rings in Erik's mind and, caught up as he is with the pulses of sensation that don't belong to him, he doesn't hesitate to give Charles what he needs. Erik breathes out a softer, rougher sound as he kisses along Charles' neck. With the memory of Charles' instruction, Erik leans up to the soft, tender spot just below his ear and scrapes his teeth there, then bites and sucks his way down slowly. Erik focuses on every point that Charles had projected at him, and he drinks in the power of feeling what Charles allows.

Erik lowers himself down, enough to almost bring their chests together. He feels the hardness of Charles' cock through his slacks and eases back enough to give him some friction as Erik kisses, sucks, bites, and touches his fill, awash in a deep sense of _right_.

 _Stunning, Charles. What you can do, who you are_ , Erik thinks, and means it. _You don't belong in the shadows._

And, as Erik sucks a mark low on Charles' throat, he reaches out and gathers some of the energy from the room. When the suck turns into a bite, it's with a low shock of electricity, not enough to hurt, but enough to feel.

* * *

This is markedly different for Charles. While a man isn't Charles' _usual_ go-to, it's certainly not jarring for him. The feel of Erik's body over top of him, the angles and musculature is, of course, welcome and lovely, but it's Erik's _acceptance_ and _encouragement_ of his gift that is honestly invigorating to Charles. It fills him from head to toe, a rapturous joy mingling with the desire and arousal.

Erik's hand may be over his mouth, but Charles doesn't feel afraid. Yes, he's very much aware that he can technically control Erik, but all he feels reflected back to him is Erik willing and wanting - Erik's mind opening up to him like a flower to the sun. Charles has never experienced this before, never had someone so wholly accepting of him and his mental presence and it's staggering.

Charles doesn't need to ask twice and he's not denied. Erik's lips part and the graze of teeth along his skin has Charles trembling, eyelids fluttering at the threat of a bite - and then the bites come, mixed with suction and kisses along the sensitive expanse of his neck. Charles' verbal moans are muffled by Erik's hand, but the way that Charles nearly thrashes under Erik makes it obvious enough that Charles is supremely enjoying this. But Charles stills, his grasp lessening in Erik's hair as Erik's mind speaks with him.

The words are one thing, but the feeling of Erik _meaning_ it, that's what shakes Charles' core. Remaining in the shadows had kept Charles off the radar, had kept all of them safe, but now that they've found each other, Charles believes something truly spectacular is on the horizon and he's grateful that Erik will be with him for it.

At the sudden buzz of electricity along his skin, Charles arches and his hands scramble to grasp at Erik's biceps and hold. _I suspected it was more than just manipulating metal,_ Charles thinks, his tone both pleased and impressed. He flashes the memory of their earlier training, of Erik's hands shaking as he exerted his power to move the satellite.

_We'll work together. I'll help you discover your potential._

* * *

There is nothing in Charles Xavier that isn't genuine. Erik had never truly suspected him of treachery beyond their first few weeks together, when he'd been waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for Charles to turn on him, to use him. But over the last few months, things have changed. Erik can _feel_ how genuine Charles is with every optimistic breath he takes, and it's as beautiful as it is fatal, that optimism.

Erik doesn't even remember what that feels like.

Just listening to Charles moan, soft, muffled, and oddly sweet only proves how genuine he is even in this. He arches and twists like he can't help himself, and Erik's _never_ felt this before. This thrumming of arousal that isn't his, this fierce awe and protectiveness, this genuine twist of his own arousal pounding through his veins. He's never _wanted_ sex before. He's never wanted _someone_ before, not outside of the way he wants Shaw's blood on his hands. Feeling Charles twist and touch and arch under him is a completely different feeling, and Erik feels himself shiver.

But when Charles' hands grab at his arms, when Charles' voice floods his mind with approval and promise and pride, Erik _feels_ it down to his core. He bites and sucks a mark low on Charles' throat and wonders how common those emotions are. They feel good, even if they also feel impossible.

Not for Charles, though. Never for Charles. Charles is the best of all of them.

 _Haven't you already done that?_ Erik thinks back, and reflects the memory of the satellite back at Charles, but with his own twist to it. The flood of emotion, the joy, and the bittersweet ache of the memory that Charles had carefully gifted to him. Erik pushes it as his teeth work a bruise into Charles' skin.

 _You've been pushing me from the moment you saved me. You've made me better. Made us all better_.

With a low, softer sound, Erik moves down, and this time he presses biting, sucking kisses to Charles' clavicle, to his chest, the intensity climbing. The need to give back, to share this, is nearly crippling.

* * *

Charles isn't fully certain about the extent of Erik's powers, but he's had an inkling that it was more than he'd witnessed. It's been exhilarating to explore and fine-tune the abilities of the mutations around him. Knowing what he knows now - knowing how many of _them_ are actually out there - he feels called to something greater. A purpose unfolding before his very eyes. And Charles wants to believe that Erik will be with him in this. Together, they can find more of their kind. After this political unrest is dealt with, they can work on uniting humans and mutants alike.

Erik's mouth is busy along his skin, sensation flaring through Charles, spikes of discomfort intermingled with hot, wet pleasure of Erik's tongue and teeth. Those feelings are swept to the side as Erik lets him see and feel Erik's perspective of that pivotal moment. Charles sighs, eyes moving behind his closed eyelids. It's a surge of what connects all of them - their humanity and the pain and beauty inherent in life. He knows that within Erik lies a vast amount of rage and agony, but Charles hadn't been lying when he claimed to see the good as well.

Such as, Erik yearning for a home, for a family and to protect mutantkind. Erik's desire to be known, understood and supported. They may not completely see eye-to-eye but Charles believes that respectful discourse is healthy. Besides, they have already proven that they can work together.

Teeth increase their pressure and Charles' gasp is still muffled. His own hand snaps up to grasp onto Erik's wrist, not to pull Erik's hand away from covering his mouth, but to _hold_ onto him, for another anchoring point of connection. Charles lets his warmth and fondness for Erik flow between them and he trembles as kisses are placed on his chest. His stomach tenses, wanting so much more but also liking that he's limited.

_I can't help but feel attracted to you, Erik. I want you. **All** of you. _

* * *

Charles Xavier is the most dangerous man that Erik has ever met, because he knows with absolute certainty that if he was given a chance, he'd give Charles the world. He'd share it with him, gift him his school, his life, his idealism even if it will always result in destruction and agony. Charles still has that light of optimism buried in his mind. He's lived a sheltered life, but a fair one. He's the best of them all, with idealism and hope and gullibility, but it makes him _Charles_.

God, he's going to crash _hard_ when reality finally teaches him that idealism and hope are worthless. Erik hates the thought even with the notion of vindication that pulses through him. But if tomorrow goes the way he hopes it will, if Charles makes his choice, Erik knows he'll be there to rebuild Charles from the rubble he'll fall into.

Even so, as his teeth bite and lips suck, he can't help but... mourn, in a sense. The man who Charles is now. The man he's not likely to be again.

But he is for now, and as slim fingers grab at Erik's wrist, he's filled with a surge of purpose. Charles' warmth floods over him and Erik shudders as he kisses lower, his senses stretching out wide enough that he can feel _everything_. The metal of the bedsprings, of the headboard, Charles' letter opener on the desk and the nails holding his table together. Erik closes his eyes as he focuses the intensity and all it takes is a thought for the belt buckle holding Charles' belt on to snap in half.

Erik flicks one of his fingers and Charles' belt slithers off and drops to the floor, where the buckle reforms. The button of his slacks undoes itself and his zipper lowers with a thought, and only then does Erik exhale harshly against Charles' skin, lips brushing just above his navel.

 _"_ Show me, again," he says, though whether it's command or plea is anyone's guess. Erik looks up at Charles, his gaze hot.

_Show me what you need from me, Charles._

* * *

It dawns upon Charles that this is more than just attraction, more than sexual activity for the sake of pleasure or fun. Erik is a friend - has become a good friend even - but there is something underneath that, something spreading its roots within the soil of Charles' mind and possibly his heart. It's akin to laying a foundation, because Charles wants this to _last_. He wants Erik to remain close to him, both in mind and body and it's dangerous because this shouldn't be about _them._ Charles isn't looking for love and he believes very strongly that this is also the case for Erik.

Swimming through Erik's mind, careful to not look too deep, Charles senses a similar wariness within Erik, that Erik is cognizant of the potential danger in their closeness - but Erik, too, doesn't want to stop. It's good enough for Charles.

Charles ignores the faint cloud of thoughts in Erik's mind that seem to be under the impression that Charles is going to be forced to change for some reason and that it's unfortunate. The future isn't set. Erik may fiercely believe the worst is a likely outcome, but Charles is strong enough force to counter that.

When Charles senses Erik's power reach out and connect to the various metal in the room, he smiles against Erik's palm. It's truly liberating to be able to use their powers and for them to be celebrated. An amused muffled sound follows Erik's disregard for the belt buckle, but Charles isn't concerned. He's much more interested in the sensation of his belt pulling itself out through the loops and then dropping to the floor. Erik goes a step further, the button undoing itself and the zipper tugging down. Being undressed in such a way is arousing in and of itself, but Erik's mouth so close to his crotch, has Charles practically panting.

Charles' own eyes, the pupils blown, meet Erik's and he doesn't hesitate to project the image of them both naked and kissing.

* * *

It's both simple and liberating to focus on this, on feeling the metal in the room, on the feeling of Charles' breath against the back of his hand, on the warmth in his mind that doesn't wholly belong to him. It shouldn't be this easy. Erik knows he should be more cautious, that there are plenty of things in his mind that he'd hate for Charles to see. Charles, who hadn't been able to pull the trigger on that gun, who cringes away from the thought of violence and death.

There's a _lot_ that Erik would choose to shield from him if Charles went looking.

Thankfully, he doesn't. Instead, Erik looks up at Charles, watching intently as Charles' breathing quickens. He doesn't need to look to feel how aroused Charles is; Erik can feel the press of tented slacks against his chest. There is a part of him that _does_ wonder if Charles will ask for what he assumes is the next logical step, but when Erik is instead treated to the mental image of closeness and kissing, he's not disappointed. Instead, gaze intent, Erik nods and kisses his way back up Charles' chest.

 _Just allow me_ , Erik instructs, and he finally draws his hand away from Charles' mouth so that he can reach down between them.

It is painfully easy to leave Charles bare under him. Charles moves with Erik's hands as he urges the fabric from his legs, and while Erik's gaze does linger for a moment on where he's hard and flushed and intimately interested, he doesn't stop to explore. He slides his hands down Charles' legs, brushing his fingertips along the delicate line of each ankle and the arch of each foot as he slips Charles' slacks off. Only when he's bare does Erik lean back and do the same for himself, with less fanfare.

He's cursory, almost dismissive this time, careful not to fall into the trap of intentional seduction as he strips himself down. And only when they're both bare, when their clothes lay in a pile on the foot of the bed, does Erik lean back in. He touches Charles' cheek, strokes along it, and when he leans in to kiss him again, it's slower and deeper and fuller. There's no more hesitation.

* * *

While it would be both simple and selfish to "request" that Erik use his mouth on him, Charles is neither concerned in obtaining his own orgasm first or quickly. Certainly with some other partners that's not the case (because unpleasant minds are not something Charles ever wants to spend copious amounts of time around).

But Erik's mind is far from unpleasant. Even with the insidious shadows lurking within Erik's consciousness, Charles isn't spooked. He doesn't push his way in, doesn't dig to uncover explicit memories or beliefs. He acknowledges that there is pain and anger and emotions worth tempering, but Charles isn't here to try and untangle Erik's complicated past and he doesn't wish to invade Erik's privacy either.

Erik's hand is removed from his mouth and Charles' tongue swipes over his bottom lip, as if trying to taste Erik's skin. It's both erotic and intimate as Erik works his clothing off because Erik does more than just remove his trousers, Erik's hands and fingertips graze over his skin, down his legs, across his ankles and even against his feet (which has Charles working hard to stifle a giggle). Charles' head lifts up as Erik begins finishing stripping himself, interested and watching.

And then Erik, nude and beautiful with his longer, graceful limbs comes to lay beside him. Charles leans into the touch paid to his cheek and then his mouth is claimed in a deep kiss that he surges into. Charles falls willingly, turning to crowd into Erik, to seek out his warmth and the feel of their bodies touching. Charles can't help but share his pleasure and enjoyment, letting it wash over Erik's senses - projecting how it feels to both be physical like this but _also_ to connect to Erik's mind, how thrilling it is to feel and witness Erik's mutation.

* * *

Erik has never been intimate like this before. Much as he might have shied away from the word even days ago, when it crosses his mind, there is no other word for it. This is _intimate_. There's an undercurrent of sex to it; both he and Charles are aroused, and they could both feasibly get off, but it's not pulsing, hot, dripping arousal that filters into Erik's mind as Charles projects it to him.

It's pleasure, but it's deep and sweet and warm, like sinking into a hot bath instead of a press of bodies at a club. Even when Charles surges into the kiss, the aim isn't to chase his own pleasure. It's to _connect_ , and Erik almost doesn't know what to do with that.

It is... a lot, but he doesn't shy away from it. Charles' emotions are almost blinding, reminding Erik of bright noon sun and warm safety. He feels with an intensity that almost leaves Erik breathless, with an intensity that leaves a lingering, hurt twist of curiosity in Erik's chest when he wonders if _he'd_ ever felt this strongly before. If, as a child, he might have been as happy as Charles is as an adult. It leaves his chest feeling oddly tight, leaves a note of envy and protectiveness vying for dominance, but it doesn't sour the moment.

Erik merely grips hard onto his own mental control to keep from getting swept away in emotions that are likely commonplace to Charles, but almost overwhelming to him. He chases Charles' lips, touches his cheek. He strokes his skin and threads his fingers through Charles' hair, kissing him back with equal fervor. And, when he feels Charles crowd against him, when he feels him shiver and react, Erik lets out a soft breath and rolls over until he's pressing Charles back against the bed.

Charles' thoughts don't tell him that he's too heavy, or that Charles is uncomfortable, and Erik braces himself above Charles as he kisses him breathless. He slots one of his thighs between Charles' legs, feeling the warm, soft skin of Charles' hip against his own cock, but it's almost unimportant. The desire to greedily drink in this connection and give back to another person for the first time far outweighs Erik's desire to come.

* * *

This is more than sex, more than mere carnal desire, and it's really only now, completely naked and with Erik, that Charles fully realizes the magnitude of this connection. Together, they're on the verge of something incredible and Charles can't help but be utterly thrilled by the prospect of what they're doing - what they're _going_ to be doing. Mutants coming together, learning and bettering themselves while working alongside with the US government, humans? It's such a massive step forward into a bright future - integrating together.

It doesn't strike Charles that he's projecting too strongly, that he's sharing too much of himself, because he's never allowed himself to be so free in this. It's more than liberating, it's exhilarating to be able to let go, for Charles to share this part - _all_ of himself - with someone. It's only when Erik moves in closer that Charles realizes the lingering intensity worming its way around in Erik's mind, that it's difficult to process the swell and surge of _Charles_ ' emotions swirling with Erik's own.

He sends a gentle whisper of an apology, a caress over Erik's determination to not get swept up in this. Charles doesn't close himself off from Erik, however. He acknowledges Erik's mental fortitude and he knows that Erik wouldn't appreciate Charles shying away now.

Charles' lips eagerly meet Erik's own and they kiss, but it's less pushy, more indulgent. Skin presses against skin, hands touching, fingers traversing along lines of muscles, petting, learning, worshipping. Their mission, their objective - those are for tomorrow.

Tonight is for them.


End file.
